All for the Soul
by Valtana
Summary: What would you do to protect the one that you love? A story of selfless sacrifice - updating. I'll be redoing each chapter before adding any more.
1. In the End

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, or any of the events alluded to in this fiction. I make no money off of this, and all rights belong to the respective owners.

**Note – YAY! Finally updating these. Man…looking back, they're pretty bad. Look for the next chapter sometime soon. **

Chapter One: In the End

"_This is goodbye, Quatre." _

Thunder echoed through the small room as the bullet made contact with his chest, sending him falling back. The impact tore clean through his chest, leaving a small hole in its wake. He felt his shoulder jerk as the bullet collided with his shoulder blade, saving him from a rather nasty exit wound. He shifted back, finding the wall with a thud, as the pain exploded across his vision; a white-hot flash that left him gasping. Those words, those few simple words, were all that he had left as the world shook around him and the shock took over.

Quatre was not a stranger to pain – the draining sensation, and exquisitely horrid pain didn't surprise his mind, even as his body started to shut down. All that he had left was the pain, as the words slowly faded into darkness.

With cold certainty that only came with experience, Quatre could say that Heero had not missed his mark. With his right hand, he slowly reached into his pocket and removed a small handkerchief, wrapping it around his first two fingers. He pressed the cloth against the wound, letting half an inch slide into the sucking hole, left by the bullet that still sat within his chest. His back arched faintly and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out, before he accomplished his task and sagged with relief. If Heero was still within earshot, he wasn't going to let him hear his screams. He had at least that much pride left.

In a haze, he thought over what he'd seen again, his eyes sliding closed as he concentrated on breathing and trying not to panic. Heero had been quite a scene to behold as he stood there: eyes cold, jaw set, with the gun pointed effortlessly at him. His hand was steady as he took aim and fired the shot. He'd shown no regret…at least, that Quatre had seen, before the world went mad, and he'd landed on the floor against the wall.

The perfect soldier had just missed all of the major arteries around his heart…meaning that he would not die within moments. Quatre would be dead within the hour, perhaps less than that. Quatre would be forced to wait, suffocating slowly with one punctured lung, for death to find him. He would either feel his life slowly drain across the floor, or drown in his own blood once his lungs filled with it. This fate, handed down the barrel of Heero's gun, was either a bizarre kindness, granting him precious minutes to attempt salvation, or a cruelty that would mock him to his last.

Resigning to the fact that, rescued or not, he would most likely die in one way or another, Quatre relaxed the hand that was putting pressure on the rag in his chest. It had filled in the first few seconds with blood, and served no purpose now. He would die here and be forgotten – just a few more lines in the tabloids; _Pacifist murdered over petty argument._ He could almost read the words now, as he had in the past when some poor soul had been similarly murdered. Another burning pain took him over, as he felt the struggling flesh in his chest finally collapse under the strain of trying to pull air into him again. _He was foolish enough to believe that love was enough._

How could he have been so blind? How could he have ever believed that the 'perfect soldier' could be anything but what he was trained to be? Silently, he scolded himself for his arrogance and his mistrust. His desire for Heero, and his intense devotion, had blinded him to the truth of what surely lay in front of him.

Hot tears of shame made a salty trail down his cheek as he realized his mistake – no one could ever love him the way that he wanted to be loved. He had once believed that the kind of love he longed for was fulfilled with Heero, but of course he had been a fool to believe those lies. Heero didn't love him…how could he? He was no Raelena Peacecraft. Rage attempted to take hold, but sputtered out. Even now, he didn't have it in him to hate that completely. He was vaguely aware of the pool of blood starting to collect on the floor near his left hand – the hand that had been holding the small, black velvet box. The fingers now lay open; the box had slipped free and now sat, washed over in the vivid red-blue wash of his blood. He had been prepared to offer his everything to Heero…and this was what he had to show for it.

How could it have been anything other than some sick, twisted game to Heero? If he was willing to do away with him like this, it could be nothing more than some…mission. It was a death so cold, so cunning, so devoid of the emotion that Quatre had come to see behind those deep blue eyes, that he felt disgusted. And yet, that didn't diminish his own feelings, nor did it change the hard burden that was his sorrow over having lost it. He loved Heero. He loved him, even though he would never get to tell him that to his face again. It only made the sense of betrayal worse. He would go to his grave seeing those beautiful eyes, once so full of joy and hope, empty and hard as they had been during the war.

The darkness finally settled over him like a fog, leaving his mind empty. He was left with only his fading memories to comfort and confuse him. He floated, his heart fluttering in his chest, and listened as he faded in and out. Like echoing dreams, long since passed, he could still hear their secret, unguarded laughter, and bitter tears. He still held onto their dreams and hopes for a better and brighter future together, though they were all but gone now. He recalled their tender moments, when they had been the only two people in the world, and longed for that to be his undoing. If he had just died there, in Heero's arms, he wouldn't have to taste the bitterness of his own mortality alone and cold. He wouldn't be looking down the tunnel of his doom, with the bitter taste of betrayal on his lips. How could it have been a lie? How could he have been so tricked into believing every word that came out of the other's mouth? He'd played right into Heero's hands…though, to what end, he couldn't make his mind fathom. How could the words be so honest, and his touch be so very tender, if it was all a game?

Quatre could still smell him…could smell Heero on his skin and in his hair. Heero was all around him now, touching him in the softest ways as he floated closer and closer to oblivion.

All pain dissolved, and his mind quieted.

Suddenly, he felt a rising sensation in the pit of his stomach. He felt strong arms around his legs and shoulders, and he could hear a familiar voice which he couldn't place in his addled state. It was cooing to him, as if he were a wounded animal, to be wooed back from death.

Quatre wished that he could open his eyes for only a moment, and see who was carrying him. He wished to see who he could thank for at least attempting to save his life. Where was he being taken? Quatre was trapped in the confines of his own head, and was unable to even know his fate, much less to do anything about it.

All of a sudden, there was a loud clamoring of voices, and he was placed on something cold. His clothes were stripped away, and something was placed over his mouth. His breathing became easier as he strained to hear the familiar voice in the jumble of words. There it was…still calming and strong, though the arms had fallen away.

Something touched his skin, and he wanted to jump or protest. The pain in his limbs and torso came screaming back to life, following his blood back to his chest and the wound. He felt his muscles tense…and everything went still.

He could no longer feel anything. It was as if he were weightless and floating away. He gazed downwards…and could see his own body, covered in blood and frightfully still. Paramedics stood over him, speaking quick and jumbled words that he couldn't understand.

Duo. Duo Maxwell was standing in the ambulance with him, screaming at the doctors. All the words were lost, but Quatre could see his tears. Guilt washed over his heart at the thought of making a dear friend cry – especially when there was really nothing now that could be done for him.

Doctors pulled a defibrillator machine from its compartment and quickly charged the paddles. Quatre suddenly found himself back in his own body, and in the darkness of his own head. Everything was dark…everything was empty. But, he thought, at least he was still alive for the moment. He felt his heart pulsing in his ears, and when the pulsing grew too loud, he tuned that out, and drifted into a comfortable darkness.


	2. Tears and Rain

Chapter Two: Tears and Rain

The pressure on his arm yanked him back into reality. His head was swimming, and a light from somewhere was making his eyes water. The beeping of a heart monitor was quite calming. He had come out of his troubles alive. He didn't know what time it was, or where exactly he was. He could sense someone else in the room with him, sitting off to the right. Shimmering violet eyes seemed to catch the light as Duo stood from his place in a chair to the right of the bed.

"Are you alright?" His voice sounded so good…so unlike his own, which had been plaguing his mind for so long now. He continued:

"Quatre, I…" His name. All Duo had to do was say his name and he fell to pieces. Everything came crashing down in a pile at his feet as he thought over what had happened. Heero was gone, most likely for good, and their parting terms had been less than ideal. He hated himself, suddenly, for doing whatever he had done to make Heero go.

"Hey now, little buddy…" Quatre felt his hand being gripped in the warm hand of the other man in the room, who pulled his chair closer. "Take it easy…I'm here…no one will come at you again with me here, I promise, okay?"

His words were nice, to be sure, but somehow they didn't come close to what he wanted. He hated this…hated feeling so empty. He wanted to die. Quatre would have been satisfied with the death that Heero had planned for him.

Before he could shake himself of these feelings, and compose himself, he felt a warm body move in next to him on the tiny hospital cot. He went still for a moment, his instincts taking over and making his muscles tense. His mind regained control, and he remembered that this was one of his oldest and truest friends. His body eased, and he tried his best to relax.

Duo wrapped his arms around Quatre's shoulders, careful of his wound, and began to explain everything in a voice that was so calm it frightened him:

"You were in a coma for almost a month. The bullet wound healed pretty quickly…I guess that comes from our training and all…but some mental trauma kept you locked in your heard. The doctors told me that it might be days, months, even years before you were awake again.

"I tried to find Heero once I realized that you weren't waking any time soon, and were only getting physically stronger." Duo's voice got suddenly tight, and angry. "You don't know how badly I wanted to grab him and pull him up by the collar of his shirt…get some answers out of that bastard, for what he had done…but, I…" Duo suddenly went silent, and he lowered his face and averted his eyes.

Quatre knew…/knew/ then that Heero had disappeared for good. And, after a whole month of being out, the chances of finding him were slim to none, if there was ever a chance at all. His connections were good, but not good enough to find a man of that skill who didn't wish to be found. Quatre felt the cold hold of certainty take over, and his pondering and pleading heart grew still in his chest.

Without putting any further thought into the action, Quatre wrapped his arms around the man next to him and just lay there. Duo held Quatre, reassuringly patting his back, as he waited for the smaller man to move. Silent tears spilled down Quatre's cheeks, as he let everything drain from his body and mind.

It was almost an hour before Quatre finally felt so drained that he fell back into a deep sleep. Duo untangled himself from the other's arms and moved back to his things at the door…he had places to go, and people to see…had to check on some unfinished business. Hilde would be waiting for him outside, and he had to get started once again on his impossible mission.

While Quatre had been asleep, Duo had not only been searching for Heero, but for any signs of what might have made Heero act the way that he did. There had been very little evidence, but after three weeks of hard searching, something had been found. Hilde had said earlier that she would have the information waiting for him when he got in the car after visiting Quatre. He had kept her waiting…but, for a good reason.

He tossed a final glance at Quatre, wishing like hell that Heero had never hurt him at all, for whatever reason. He wished that he could somehow find a way to take back all of the tears that had been shed without just cause.

Stepping out into the cold, brisk night, Duo drew his black jacket closer, and pulled his hat down tighter around his head. Although he was no longer the God of Death, he still liked the old attire. Hilde was parked in the lot, half asleep, with her feet on the dashboard. The radio was so loud that the entire car was buzzing with the sounds of a virtuoso guitar solo. Upon seeing him, Hilde sat up and unlocked the car door, turning down the music, and starting the ignition.

At the end of the war, the two of them had started a small repair shop, specializing in car computer maintenance. With his training, Duo found this job less than a challenge, but loved the money that it brought in. He could teach a car how to drive itself, connect to various GPS satellites without having to be manually switched, and even have it regulate the temperature inside of the car depending on the weather outside, and the conditions. Hilde was a more than apt pupil, and had learned the trade quickly.

This car happened to be one of their privately engineered transport devices. When given the gas, the awesome machine roared to life like a beast which sat waiting for its master to return. A sleek, black body made it almost invisible in the darkness, and all the more appealing when it could be seen. This was 'The Dark Knight'…his favorite car.

"What the hell took you so long?" She demanded, when Duo opened the passenger door. Duo slowly sat himself down, and buckled his seatbelt.

"He's finally awake…and, he's less of a mess than I think I would be in his shoes." Duo responded, heaving a sigh.

"Oh…so he's alright, then. That's good…" The woman responded, down casting her eyes and changing her tone.

"I still don't get it. How could Heero have /such/ a change of heart? I've never seen him act that way around another human being, and Quatre was good for him. Ever since Relena died, Heero's been different."

"Well, the death of your first love will do that to just about anyone." Hilde stated, strapping herself in and starting to reverse out of their parking place. The freeway was empty at that time of night, and in the direction they were going, they only caught sight of half a dozen headlights.

"So, what's the news…you said you had some kind of lead for me." Duo pressed, turning to look at her. "What have you found out?"

"Well," Hilde began. "it would seem that one of the organizations connected to the death of Miss Peacecraft, has gained extensive knowledge on all of the Gundam pilots. They know every pilot's whereabouts, pre and post war info, training, education, primary contacts, employment, everything…these guys were thorough, and must have done quite a few illegal things to gain this kind of classified information.

"Anyways, a few weeks ago, night before he shot Quatre, there was a letter sent out to Heero. Now, I couldn't get my hands on what was in the letter, but a friend of mine works in the offices of this business…it seems that they were going to try and hold something over his head. My guess is, they blackmailed him into thinking that they could do something to Quatre, and Heero took the first step in removing their hold over him."

It all suddenly made sense. Duo ran a hand through his hair as he though about the implications. Hadn't Heero always tried to kill Relena, as well? Wasn't that his usual MO when it came to love and relationships? Heero must have been so scared of what they might do to Quatre that he decided to kill him instead.

"Hilde, this is huge…" He managed to mutter, as they sped down the highway, and away into the night. "We…We can't tell Quatre yet. Not until we have more information."

Hilde nodded, looking over at her friend in the passenger's seat. "Are you alright, Duo?" She asked, tilting her head before turning her attention back to the road.

"Ye…Yeah, I'm fine. Or, at least, I will be fine when all of this is over."


	3. Dirty Little Secret

Notes: This in Heero's PoV. Kind of a side idea that I had to try. The title that of a song by Muse.

Chapter Three: Unintended

The streets were covered in the sticky rain that trickled down the sides of bars. It made his shoes stick to the pavement of the filthy street in the underdeveloped country. The sky had turned dark almost four hours ago, and Heero had just woken up from a long day without much sleep. His head was still pounding from the drinking the night before, as well as the loud music that had poured from the club. His eyes were red around the edges, though his hair kept that from being too noticeable. His hair was tussled, and his clothes were a far cry from clean. He couldn't remember the smell of sea air; couldn't remember the last time that he had felt clean cloth.

With a weary sigh, he ran his hand through his hair, and cast a glance to the wondering moon. She was the only one that he had left; the only one that he could have, at least until all of this was resolved. A few more months; Quatre had been picked up by Duo, he was sure of that much, and he could wait a few more months to be reclaimed.

Not in all of his years did Heero Yuy think that he would ever find himself in a place like this.

No one could find him here; he was under a different name, and never stayed more than one night anywhere. He paid for everything in cash, as not to leave a paper trail. He'd liquidated his bank accounts and kept bills stored away in a very safe place. Tonight, however, he had finally had enough of denying himself.

Heero glanced about before heading into the shady joint at the very end of the street. His hands shoved deep into his pockets, he glanced up to check the sign before walking into the poorly built shack. This was the place that he had been told about…this had to be it. 

Smoke hit him like a wave as he walked into the tiny single-roomed area, glancing about. Surprisingly enough, it was full of beautiful women, all dressed in almost the same outfit. Their hair was cut in different lengths and styles, as to appeal to different…buyers.

Their bodies were pulled into thin clothes. They all had the same blank and empty expression painted on their faces. He had seen it before in a thousand eyes. Heero was no stranger to places like this…no stranger to ladies of the night. It was enough for him, he had decided long ago, to have one night away from the pain of the guilt that ripped him to shreds from the inside out. 

Then again, he thought with a weary glance around, he hadn't done this since Relena died. He had really never had a need. Quatre had been there to pick up the pieces of what he was before, and it was Quatre who had been there to rebuild him into something close to human again. The cold, hard stab of guilt drove into his insides as he tried to decide what to do. Should he have even been standing there at all? He could still leave if he wanted to, he reminded himself.

He had heard (from where he couldn't remember) that there were men out in the back. Slowly, Heero made his way through the room, and the eyes of the women followed him. They were like a pack of trained dogs…obedient until there was a sign of weakness. Their cold, black eyes watched him as he opened the door and moved out.

Outside, in the cool autumn air, men were standing along the wall in various positions. Combing his eyes over the mass of them, Heero tried to clear his mind and make his choice. He didn't want to stay longer than it would take to find his replacement.

There were tall ones, and young ones. There were old ones, and some more handsome than others. Some were exotic, dark-skinned with lovely brown eyes…others were plain-looking with brown hair and various eyes, all with the same expression.

But, at the end of the line of them, there was a small, light-skinned boy with silvery blonde hair. It was longer than Quatre's, and the boy was a little too thin to be a perfect match…but the resemblance was almost enough to knock Heero off his feet. Could he do this? Could he betray everything that he had lived for?

That had already been done.

Heero held his breath for a moment before letting it out slowly. He might have found the answer to his silent fears and questions. Perhaps he could find his relief in this one…in this man who had no name to him.

He had stopped finding meaning in one-round bar fights with men a bit more drunk than he was. They only gave him a momentary rush, which left him itching for more of something that he knew he shouldn't have lusted for in the first place. Heero needed the warm press of skin against his own skin to ease the pain in his chest and the burning in his brain.

Circling this tall, lithe boy once, and then again, hero saw exactly what there was to offer:

The skin of this little blonde one was soft and seemed to have an almost luminous glow to it. His face was gentle, with only the slightest pout to his lower lip. He was shorter than Heero, but taller than Quatre by almost two inches.

He would be almost perfect.

The perfect soldier extended his hand, and the boy accepted it with ease. Not quite gifted with the language of these parts, Heero spoke only in numbers. He was slowly led, down a long winding path, to a complex of rooms behind the makeshift 'bar'.

Drawing a key from his pocket, this boy spoke a singe, triple digit number. A number, Heero thought that was a bit high. He couldn't exactly, complain, however, and nodded his agreement, watching the boy as he moved and spoke. Trying to get a feel for what he was getting himself into.

The boy pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the large oak door, marked with the number 486. The door swung open, and Heero got a good look around. The room was a square, with soft green walls, lined with a deep blue trim. The furniture was cheap and mostly plastic. That was, except for the bed.

The bed was a large canopy number, with a feathery soft mattress, covered in green silk sheets. Four tall pillars surrounded the base, and they were topped with long silk curtains of an aqua shade. The whole affair was quite elegant, and Heero found himself approving. So, the number had been a bit high…at least he was getting his money's worth. Just laying in that bed would be a nice change from what he had put himself through lately.

Before things got started, Heero had to make one rule quite clear. Touching the boy's shoulder to get his attention, he stepped around to look him in the eyes. He pointed to his own chest, before saying his name softly. He then repeated the process, pointing at the boy in question, and whispering "Quatre."

The boy nodded his understanding before moving closer, slipping out of his shoes. His eyes softened into pools of golden light, and he caressed Heero's cheek. The brunette felt his lips part as a sigh escaped him, a shiver running down his spine.

Quivering slightly, he drew the smaller boy into his arms and kissed him as he had only dreamt of doing for the past month. The fire behind the other male's lips was unmistakable, and persistent, as he returned the advances openly.

Heero let himself slip into the memories. He pictured Quatre's face and lifted the other boy up, wrapping this pretender's legs around his waist. Holding the kiss, he slowly made his way to the bed and set him down. With a tender, gentle touch, he removed the barriers between them, before pressing the other boy back.

"Quatre's" body was warm and giving, in this moment. Heero found no rejection here, and his guilt melted into the warm press of flesh. No pain. No hurt. Heero didn't have to face his mistakes with this man. There was only the warmth as he felt himself melt into the other man with a quiet shiver.

Their bodies melded in a wave of heat. Sheer bliss and blinding relief flooded his entire system as he disappeared in the other's touch. Pleading need was the only thing that he could see now. He hardly knew this man…and yet he found more comfort here than anywhere else in the world at the moment. Envisioning only Quatre's face, he poured himself into the sensations. He was safe, he told himself, as he panted in the other's ear. Quatre was here…right here, safe, and completely his again.

They were together, at last. Everything had worked out the way that he had hoped it would.

Bright colors flooded his vision as he released hard, managing only to cry a single name before falling what felt like miles onto the other man's chest. He was exhausted, lying atop this boy, content to place kisses along his jaw-line and throat.

The boy sat, looking down at Heero for a moment, using a gentle finger to brush some hair from his eyes. To Heero's astonishment, he began to speak.

"You must…really…love him." Almost perfect Japanese. Heero could only nod and turn his eyes away.

"I…I do love him. I love him very much." He whispered, sitting up himself and moving away.

"He is…luck…to have Heero." He said gently, offering a finger in Heero's direction. The guilt returned almost as soon as it had disappeared. There was nowhere to run now…no way to hide from it again. They both began to dress once again, and Heero gathered his things from where they had fallen on the ground. Quietly, he slipped the money onto the nightstand, and pulled on his shirt.

"Goodbye, Heero."

Heero couldn't let his hopes rise as he started from the room and closed the door. Crossing the tiny courtyard, he straightened his clothes. He was leaving at first light…and taking Wing Zero with him. The undestroyed Gundam waited for him out in the jungles outside of town. Safely hidden, he knew that it would be there for him when he went for it. He was a pilot until the day that he died…and not even this was going to change that.


	4. Stupid

Disclaimer: ( I can't remember if I put this on the last chapter, so if I didn't, it still applies.) I don't own Gundam Wing, and I don't make any money off of this fic.

Notes: This one is just for you, BigSister2. I love a good reviewer, and I've gotten a few from you now. Thanks so much for your support! Just make sure to gimmie more of those big reviews! (-.- Wish I got more of those!)

More Notes: Read through this chapter…and, if you can predict what happens next, I'll dedicate the next chapter to you! Also, if you have any questions/comments (that aren't "GOD YOU SUCK" or anything of the like), add me on Aim: gravitystruth. Much love!

Chapter Four: Stupid

It was early the next morning when Quatre awoke. The room was oddly comforting…nothing like the hospital where he had woken before. Turning on his side he noticed the window before he saw anything else; the sun was rising in the sky, tainting a pair of peaks a faint shade of violet, and then pink, and finally a pale crimson. His eyes were dazzled; it was as if he'd never seen the sunrise before. He found himself drawn to the bright hues that danced before his eyes for what seemed to stretch on as hours. In all reality, it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes.

Slowly, the world came fading back…he was in his bedroom in the house in Seattle, Washington. The little town house was just as he had left it, all of those months ago. The dresser was full of his clothes, he was sure. His pale green curtains fluttered as the AC clicked on, and he heaved a sigh at the cool touch against his skin. The carpets were a pale shade of mocha…Bonjour Beige, to be exact. He remembered smiling at the name and Heero's eyebrow twitching at the thought of having it in their house.

It was like a bullet flew through his chest and left him bleeding all over again.

They had been there together less than two months ago. He and Heero had been together in this very house, sleeping in this same bed. The thought caused the bile to turn in his stomach and he could only wonder how long it had been since he had last eaten. Must have been a long time, he thought absent-mindedly, since he had been in the hospital for a month. Running a hand through his hair, he yawned widely and sat up.

He instantly regretted it and moved to lie back down. His head was spinning wildly, and colors flashed around the edges of his vision. Stress, he supposed, made his body react this way. He hadn't had his eyes open in a month, to say anything of moving himself within the bed. And so, it was to be expected that he wasn't perfectly healed over night. Regardless, he lay there for a moment to try and catch his breath before attempting it at a slower pace. No spots rewarded him, and he smiled at his triumph, however small it might have been. Sitting quietly in bed, his back twanged with the ache of movement.

He looked up at the sound of the door opening at the far end of the room. Instantly, he felt exposed and a little helpless. To his mass relief, however, it wasn't an armed anyone. Quite to the contrary, it was a woman with a tray of what looked to be breakfast foods who offered a faint smile at the sight of him.

"Good morning!" Came her pleasant voice as she shifted about the room and eventually set the tray with food upon it on the nightstand, adjusting a few things that had moved during it's transit from the kitchens. "How're you feeling?"

"Well, thank you. If you don't mind my asking…who are you?" He questioned evenly, though a faint smile moved at the edge of his lips. She was sweet, and somewhat clumsy. Dark hair fell over her eyes in a short cut, as bright eyes regarded him with a gleam to them.

"My name is Hilde. I'm a close friend of Duo's…we work together in a scrap shop that he opened after the war." She explained with a faint sigh, putting the tray over his lap and waiting for a response.

There was everything that anyone could want; Ham, bacon, sausage, orange juice, mocha coffee, water, waffles, french toast, pancakes, sliced melon, grapes, and a tiny glass with a red carnation in it. Quatre…was speechless. Not only had she gotten everything onto the tray; it was _well organized_. He had to wonder if this woman had put an engadgement ring in his toast. Oh yes. There was regular toast with what smelled like peach jam on it, too.

He could only smile up at her and thank her quietly, not sure where to start…or even if he could lift a fork. So, he started with the glass of water, taking a long sip as Hilde sat down and looked towards the window. "He asked me, Duo that is, to come and make sure that you were alright while he went into work. There was a trouble car…a Toyota POS." She scoffed. "The fucker wouldn't let me touch his car, and so Duo had to come and do it. Said something about a man's touch. I wanted to smash his face."

Quatre couldn't help but laugh quietly at her tone and her colorful language choice. So, it would seem that she was quiet angry with whoever it was that had denied her access to their car. He smiled and looked down at the food, picking at it for a few minutes until he was satisfied.

"Oh! Do you want to read the paper?" The woman had perfect timing. With half of a slice of ham sticking out of his mouth, due to his lazy cutting, Quatre could only blush and nod. She stood, leaving the room and giving him time to finish what he had in his mouth before he set the tray aside and waited for the articles that would be his clue into the outside world and what was happening.

Would his story be there?

The thought sent shivers down his spine as he tried to ease his heart rate. It wouldn't do him any good to worry over something that he hadn't even seen yet. She was back a few minutes later, holding a heavy Sunday paper in her hands, setting it down and pulling out the adds out before handing it to him and sitting back down in the chair beside his bed.

"Uhm…you might want to…prepare yourself before you look." She offered with a nervous laugh as she watched the small blonde pull the paper apart and fold it before starting to read at a quick rate.

The headline made his breath catch.

"**The World Mourns the Loss of War Hero, Quatre Raberba Winner to an Act of Violence**."

The article laid out the entire scene for him in startling detail. Apparently, when he had been moved out of the hospital and into his home, he'd been reported dead. A body had been provided, it seemed, and it had been cremated instead of him. His will had been changed, apparently.

Everything that he owned had been left to Duo Maxwell. Convent, eh?

Various well-wishers left flowers to his home in California, laying them at the main south gate; this home was the one where he had been shot. Pictures, in vivid colors, made the place very real to the man lying in his bed.

Thousands of flowers, pictures, and candles dotted the fence of the cemetery, where public access was stopped. His sisters…all of them if he could still count, were standing around it, dressed in black, their heads hung, holding handkerchiefs and crying. Their expressions…it was a tear at his heart to see them so sad over something that had never really happened.

Everyone thought that he was dead; his family…his friends…even the other ex pilots, he was sure. He felt his heart ache when he thought over the possibility that Heero knew. Would he care? Would the perfect soldier have a tear to shed for his own doing? Quatre felt betrayed. Why wasn't there a picture of Heero standing over his grave?

"I…I think I need to tell my family." He said quietly. "At least my sisters…they'd never tell…but…I mean…" He stammered, unsure of what point he himself was trying to make. He had to make some sort of point to this girl. Maybe she could help him convince Duo.

"I don't know if that's a…" Hilde started, giving him a sad look before she looked over her shoulder towards the door. It clicked open, revealing a sweaty, tired Duo. His hair was pulled back and braided, as always, and a black cap was placed on his head. A black muscle shirt covered his chest, narrowing down to a pair of faded and ripped blue jeans. He looked extremely serious for a moment…more serious than Quatre had ever seen him before.

"Not a good idea, little buddy." He muttered, moving into the room and moving to the other side of the bed, kneeling down. "Heero is still out there, somewhere. I can keep you hidden from being found, if he thinks that you're dead. We can wait a few months, move to somewhere remote, and resume life…but…I can't save you from him if he finds out that you're still alive." He said quietly. "If you were found to be alive, he'd come after you again. Even though I might be good at this, I can't protect you from him if he comes at you directly again. And this time, he might not miss. I'm sorry, Quat. There's no way that you can ever tell anyone."

"I understand, Duo." Quatre quietly responded after a moment, running a hand through his hair and looking up at the other man. "I just…I don't see why I can't tell my sisters. They're family…and, the other pilots! You know that they'd never tell. I know that Trowa's bound to be worried…and when Trowa's worried, Wu-Fei gets agitated, and th…"

"Quatre, as long as you're dead," Duo began. "Heero has no reason to harm any of your family. He has no reason to go after any of the pilots, either. He'll stay in hiding as long as he believes that you're dead. But, if you were alive, he would have reason to come out again. He might be upset when he couldn't find you right away…when you weren't at a specific location. Should he be unable to find you on his own, which is a big possibility, he would turn on them. He might hurt your family…might hurt our friends." He muttered, shaking his head. "I hate that it's so hard to think about, but, the truth of the matter is that it's safer for everyone if he never finds out."

"Maybe you're right." He said quietly, shaking his head. He smiled quietly and nodded. "Well…when can I get out of this bed?" He asked, a faint smile playing over his lips. Quatre was sure that his muscles were pointlessly immobile after a month in a coma. Hopefully, he'd be able to stand and walk again without any physical therapy. If not, he'd be forced to move around like a scarecrow for a while until they could move somewhere else and find someone to do it.

"I don't know." Duo laughed quietly. "But, if you recover from atrophy anything like you recovered from that shot, you'll be running marathons around my ass in a week or two." He stated with a grin. "I'm glad that you're feeling better, Quatre. I was worried about you." He admitted.

Quatre laughed in return, smiling brightly. "Thank you, Duo. For everything…saving me, and giving me another chance." He offered quietly, suddenly realizing everything that this man had done for him.

Running a hand through his bangs, Duo gave a smile and shook his head. "Nothing that I couldn't handle. Not that big of a deal, I promise." He stated with a bit of a laugh before standing up again. "I've got to get back. The bastard wanted his truck done by the end of the day." He muttered, giving Hilde a smile. She, in return, gave him a smirk before nodding.

"Go on and get out of here. I'll keep Quatre company before lunch, and then we can switch. You know I like the night shift better, anyways." She waved at him, and Duo made his exit, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

Sighing quietly, the brunette closed his eyes for a moment. His smile faltered and the guilt set in. None of what he knew about the plot behind Heero' actions made sense. Nothing, from the strange organization, to the way Quatre had been shot, to the disappearance of the other pilot, added up to anything that Dup wanted to think about.

He hated himself for a moment. Hated that he cared about Quatre as much as he did, hated that he was putting so many people in danger's way to keep one person safe, and hated the fact that he wasn't being completely honest with the other man.

Heero never meant to kill Quatre.

Duo now knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Heero had missed a killing shot on purpose. The Perfect Solider had done everything that he had with one objective; to get the company off of his back before he continued with his life. He was going to reclaim Quatre. He thought that the younger man was still in a coma, Duo figured.

Heero had almost killed Quatre to save him. Almost killed him…in order to keep him from being tortured and murdered by some hit man when he turned his back.

Duo had to keep Quatre away from that monster. Starting down the hallway, he set his jaw and made a vow:

As long as Quatre was in pain, and as long as he wasn't safe, he would never see Heero again.


End file.
